Something

当红尾鸟

just now

巨大的翅膀拍打水面，

moved through my heart

然后，飞上嶙峋的

like the thinnest of blades

灰色岩壁，

as that red-tail pumped

是什么

once with its great wings

正

and flew above the gray, cracked

穿透我的心，

rock wall.

如同最薄的刀片。

It wasn"t

它无关于

about the bird, it was

鸟，而是关于

something about the way

石头

stone stays

沉默，并促使

mute and put, whatever

某种事物

goes flashing by.

一闪而过的方式。

Sometimes,

有时

when I sit like this, quiet,

当我这样安静地坐着，

all the dreams of my blood

我生命的全部梦想

and all outrageous divisions of time

和全部非凡的时刻，

seem ready to leave,

似乎要离开，

to slide out of me.

从我身上溜出去。

Then, I imagine, I would never move.

于是，我想象，我将不再移动。

By now

此时，

the hawk has flown five miles

鹰至少已飞了

at least,

五英里，

dazzling whoever else has happened

无论谁偶然抬头去看

to look up.

都会头昏眼花。

I was dazzled. But that

我感到晕眩。但那

wasn"t the knife.

不是刀。

It was the sheer, dense wall

它是陡峭、盲目而厚实的

of blind stone

石头墙，

without a pinch of hope

不含一点希望，

or a single unfulfilled desire

或者一个未满足的欲望，

sponging up and reflecting,

海绵般吸收并反射着

so brilliantly,

太阳之火，

as it has for centuries,

它如此明亮，

the sun"s fire.

仿佛已存在了几个世纪。